The Lost Prince: 4 (Rise of Legends) - Tapa blanda

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lost An Author's Wayward Path I was born near Doncaster England in the early sixties but later moved south to Sussex, where I lived for many years. One of my (several schools) was at Battle, a small town named after that historic conflict in 1066. You know the one, it culminated with poor Harold getting that arrow in his eye and those rude Normans invading our green and pleasant land. Growing up so close to that scene of ancient carnage awarded me a fascination for all things Dark Age. I'd fallen victim to a weird and random imagination, resulting in a love of epic stories and epic story telling. This affliction prompted me to delve deep into the worlds of Tolkien, Peake, Eddison and Moorcock. Also about this time I commenced drawing imaginary maps and inventing stories about wonderfully nasty folk, doing wonderfully nasty things, whilst pent up in gloomy unpleasant places. Then at 18 years daft, I found myself thrust deep into the Queen's Household Cavalry. How I arrived there I cannot quite recall. The result was a sharp dose of reality. But not a cure – the affliction ran deep. I left the regiment, and for a time wandered hazy through life hitting nails with hammers, sailing brigantines through southern waters, drinking venomous concoctions with venomous companions, and yes, reading lots more ghastly fantasy books. At 27 years I became to a degree sensible. I married my beloved Rae, a watercolour artist and passionate Celt, and got a sensible career hauling trucks around the British countryside. The trouble with hauling trucks around the British countryside is that it lets the mind ramble willy nilly, when not being tortured by local radio. The result of that rambling was more stories flittering around inside this errant trucker's dizzy head. Then, during one dark winter night back in 1993, whilst parked forlorn outside a dreary inn, something profound happened. I stumbled into Corin an Fol: a moody, rather difficult individual, mooching about in a deep tangled wood (my imagination). That wood grew into a world (not as hard as it sounds when you write fantasy stuff). The world became Ansu, home to all manner of mismatched mortals and grumpy gods. Late 2001 a plot appeared through the murky trees. It found Corin lost and wandering and introduced him to some other unruly types, resulting in The Shattered Crown. After that came the prequel: Gol, set a thousand year earlier. Finally I can present the long awaited sequel: The Lost Prince.